...if you ever wonder what you've done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God's grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle.

There is so little to remember of anyone - an anecdote, a conversation at a table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming habitual fondness not having meant to keep us waiting long.

Faith takes a great many forms, suited to a variety of sensibilities, and mine happens to suit me very well.

The locus of the human mystery is perception of this world. From it proceeds every thought, every art.

... but it's your existence I love you for, mainly. Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined.

It is one of the best traits of good people that they love where they pity. And this is truer of women than of men.

I have always liked the phrase "nursing a grudge " because many people are tender of their resentments as of the thing nearest their hearts.